


murder, they wrote

by wearealltalesintheend



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, F/M, Gen, Good Brother Diego Hargreeves, Humor, Pre-Season/Series 01, a reluctant good brother, but is along for the ride anyway, diego is mostly done with the shenanigans, indirectly ben hargreeves too i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-07 20:26:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17967473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearealltalesintheend/pseuds/wearealltalesintheend
Summary: “X marks the spot?”“You have no idea, do you?” Klaus shakes his head, unrepentant. With an overwhelming urge to sigh again, Diego rescues his car keys from the floor. “Let’s go. We’ll hit the diner first and see if they know where you went after.”He hears his brother gasp behind him. “We’re going to Hangover this bitch!”Instead of the dozens of ways he could have answered this, Diego jogs up the stairs and out the door, leaving Klaus to scramble after him. Something crashes inside, followed by a curse, and Diego feels his lips twitching in a smile.".or, the one where there may or may not be a dead body, Klaus needs to work on his short-term memory, andsomehowthat's Diego's problem.





	murder, they wrote

**Author's Note:**

> okay, I binge-watched this season in like, two days, so let's all keep in mind this isn't my most in-character work to date.
> 
> That being said, I just really wanted an excuse to write Diego and Klaus being the chaotic duo they were this season. I hope it turned out at least a little bit entertaining.

_ “I may have killed someone.” _

 

“No,” says Diego, slamming the door shut again, because this is not the kind of thing you want to hear first thing in the morning, especially considering who’s doing the talking. When it comes to Klaus and his shit, nothing is ever straightforward.

 

_ “Diego,”  _ his brother whines, knocking repeatedly on the metal door. “You can’t just go slamming doors in people’s faces! That’s rude! Didn’t Mom teach you better?”

 

There are several ways Diego could answer that, and the wisest one would be to take the high road and ignore him. It’s ten in the goddamn morning, that’s way too early to deal with this level of bullshit. But the thing is, Diego has never been very good at taking the high road and Klaus is the special sort of stubborn that could probably keep knocking on his door the entire day if Diego lets him.

 

Sighing, he resigns himself to his fate and opens the door. “What the fuck does that mean?”

 

“I told you he would come around,” Klaus stage-whispers to the wall at his left, before looking back at Diego with a serious face, or, as serious as it ever gets. He takes a deep breath.  _ “Language,  _ Jesus. Do you kiss Mom with that mouth?”

 

“Goodbye,” Diego deadpans and tries to shut the door once more, but Klaus jams his shoulder against it, taking advantage of the half second of hesitation to slip past Diego and stumble his way inside. “Hey, hey,  _ hey.  _ What do you think you’re doing?”

 

Klaus ignores him, skipping down the stairs and making a beeline to his fridge like this is just another Sunday morning, like he hasn’t just confessed to  _ maybe  _ murder, like it hasn’t been almost five years since the last time they talked. “You’re out of milk,” he informs Diego, frowning down at a packet of Oreos he produced from somewhere. “Well, this is just disappointing.”

 

“How did you know where I live?” Diego demands, slamming his own fridge closed and dragging his brother to the couch by the arm, “and what do you mean you killed someone?”

 

Klaus’ face falls and the Oreos slide sadly to the floor. “I  _ may  _ have killed someone. Well, no, I’m pretty sure he was already dying when he fell on me.”

 

There’s just so much to unpack there. “You don’t know?” A pause. Klaus shakes his head. “How do you not know? How do  _ you  _ not know? Didn’t they,  _ you know.” _

 

“Bold of you to assume I was sober enough for that.”

 

The amusement last about half a second and Diego really wishes Klaus didn’t look so pathetic right now, huddled against the arm of his couch, so he could kick him and his bullshit out without feeling too much like an asshole. “What happened?” He grinds out, resisting the urge to walk out himself or call Luther to demand he get his ass back here and deal with this. Luther loves reminding them he’s Number One, doesn’t he? So, he should be the one dealing with this, then. See how he likes it.

 

On the couch, Klaus leans forward earnestly, “it was not my fault this time, I swear. I was minding my own business–  _ I was!  _ I was just throwing up in this alley, as one does, when it started raining men–  _ literally!  _ And it’s not  _ nearly  _ as much fun as the song would have you believe.”

 

“Klaus,  _ I swear to god,  _ if this is some–”

 

“No, I’m totally serious! It’s the truth and only the truth, cross my heart and hope to die,” he crosses himself, then pauses. “That was insensitive, I’m sorry. Anyway, this guy crashes into me, right? Then he staggers up, all,” he pulls a face, making vaguely zombie-like noises, “looks at me and then  _ dies.  _ Just like that. Very off-putting, if you ask me, not even a couple of final words to remember him by.”

 

“Did you check for a pulse?” Asks Diego, slowly, unsure how to proceed. While Klaus might be telling the truth, he also might be bullshitting him with some hallucination, and Diego’s not entirely sold on either option. Besides, he doesn’t see how this could be in any way his problem. “Before you left, did you check for a pulse?”

 

“Of course I did,” Klaus gives him a deeply offended look, tugging his ridiculous coat tighter over himself. “The man was properly dead,” then he amends, “probably. I was in a bit of a rush, you see.”

 

“That sounds rough, I’m sorry someone’s death inconvenienced your night. Call the cops, you should report the body– by the way, two things you can do somewhere that is not here.”

 

The look that crossed his brother’s face is so exaggeratedly betrayed, Diego has to snort, watching him gape, “are you  _ insane?  _ Did they finally hit your head hard enough to knock something loose?  _ Diego,”  _ he scolds, now fixing him with a disappointed glare, “you  _ know  _ you can’t afford to lose brain cells, you’ve already got so few of them–” 

 

A knife embeds itself on the cushion a few inches left of his head. 

 

A pity, really, because Diego likes this couch, but sometimes sacrifices must be made.

 

“Alright, alright, jeez.  _ As I was saying,  _ I can’t do that. The guy who finds the body is  _ always  _ the first suspect and I may or may not have thrown up a little on him. That’s DNA evidence.”

 

“You know jackshit about DNA evidence,” Diego retorts automatically.

 

“I know  _ all  _ about DNA evidence,” Klaus exclaims hotly, “I watched  _ all _ seasons of Law & Order last time I was in rehab!”

 

Diego looks pointedly at the hospital band around his wrist.

 

“Oh, don’t give me that look, I forget to take it off. Don’t try to change the subject, young man, it won’t work. The point is if I call it in, they will see the body and the DNA evidence and say I’m inserting myself in the case– did you know that’s the first thing all serial killers do? I’ll be shipped off to prison before I can even end the call.”

 

_ “Jesus Christ,”  _ Diego blinks, trying to follow all the thought jumps on that.  _ Jesus Christ.  _ “Did you come up with all of this yourself?”

 

Klaus sniffs haughtily, “of course not. Jiminy Cricket reminded me of the  _ inserting yourself on the case _ thing. He really did like Law & Order, I did not see that coming.” A pause, where he glances around awkwardly. “So will you help me, then? Just to go check and see if I’m a wanted criminal yet.”

 

Even when they were kids growing up in a very fucked up house, Klaus had always been a little shit.  _ Eccentric,  _ Vanya had written in her book because Vanya always tried to be polite, even when she was being an asshole, and Diego sighs, stomping down the flare of anger at that– at Vanya and her book and all the dirty laundry she aired. 

 

The point is that Klaus had always been a little shit, so easy to talk into doing stupid shit, and Diego still remembers the night he sneaked out his window like always but never came back in the morning. After Five, and after Ben, they had been worried for about a week; then Allison had left too– through the front door, suitcases packed and holding on for dear life to an airplane ticket, Dad’s disapproving eyes following her through the door– and it had been clear. 

 

None of them were coming back if they could help it.

 

And now Diego itches to stab the punchbag near him or possibly himself because he knows he’s going to cave and he knows he’s going to regret it. But Eudora would be proud, he thinks, so there’s that. If he tells her he helped one of his stupid brothers, maybe she will let him in the next crime scene. Or buy her that drink he owes her, but Diego isn’t holding out much hope on that.

 

“Fine,” he exhales tiredly, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. It’s going to be a long day. “Where was this?”

 

Klaus beams, clapping his hands excitedly. “Excellent,” he crows, but his grin turns sheepish and Diego is immediately suspicious. “There’s just one teeny-tiny problem. I may or may not be lacking a few key pieces of information here and there.”

 

“You don’t know where it is,” deadpans Diego.

 

“I don’t know where it is,” agrees Klaus.

 

_ Unbelievable.  _ “How do you not know where it is?”

 

“Like  _ you  _ never misplaced a dead body before!”

 

“Like I–  _ why would you think that?” _

 

“You know,” Klaus makes stabbing motions. Diego glares, unimpressed. He stabs Diego’s pillow with an imaginary knife again. “never? Really? Oh,  _ great.  _ Why am I even here, then?”

 

There’s something needlessly affronted in the way Klaus huffs, scrambling to his feet. He picks up his Oreos as if it’s Diego’s fault that they are in this situation and not Klaus that forced his way into his room. “That’s a great question, actually,” Diego stops him with an outstretched arm, “why  _ are  _ you here?”

 

Klaus glances at him, pushing uselessly at his arm, probably just to be petty. “Wasting my time, apparently,” he glares, giving a final push before whirling around and beginning to pace back and forth. “It’s not like I have many options! Allison is in LA, Luther is on the freaking moon– and he would be all judgy about it anyway, you know how he gets– and, well, Vanya would probably have tried to help but she’s got her violin thing going on for her now and she’s never really had much stomach for these things, can’t have her throwing up on a crime scene too, right? And I figured you had  _ connections.  _ You know, with the  _ police _ .”

 

Sometimes–  _ sometimes,  _ Diego wishes he had done the sensible thing and changed his name before leaving the country.

 

“Fuck the police, right?” Klaus snickers, waggling his eyebrows, and cackles when Diego punches his shoulder.  _ Little shit.  _

 

“Shut it before I change my mind. What’s the last thing you remember?”

 

Plopping back down on the couch, Klaus snaps his fingers at the general direction of the window, “yes! The diner! I had waffles on a diner!”

 

“What time was that?”

 

“Noon- _ ish?” _

 

Diego looks up at the ceiling, watches the fan spin lazily until his irritation fades to the usual background noise. “Address?”

 

His demand is met with guilty silence. 

 

“What? It’s not like I go walking around reading street names!” Klaus flops on his back sullenly, hands stuffed into his pockets. It goes on for long enough that Diego starts to think he might have fallen asleep, in which case Diego would be more than happy to carry him back to the hallway, but his eyes fly open and he jolts upright. “Wait, wait, wait–”

 

The magazines on his coffee table are thrown carelessly to the floor as his brother makes space to empty his pockets. A button, a crumpled paper, confetti, and another crumpled paper fall on the table while a packet of cigarettes hits the corner and tips to the floor. “Look,” he tries to straighten the papers as best as he can, waving one of them like a white flag. “It’s a receipt!”

 

_ Donna’s Diner  _ it reads, and apparently, Klaus spent fifteen dollars between coffees and waffles. If they’re lucky, typing the name into the GPS should give them an address. At the very least, it’s a start.

 

“What else do you got there?” He dismisses the button as weird pocket shit and the confetti as weird Klaus shit, going right for the other paper. On the back of it, there’s a terribly drawn map in green crayon with random letters assigned to what looks like equally random buildings.

 

It’s the least useful map Diego has ever seen, it’s so ugly– it’s  _ appalling.  _

 

“I think this one is supposed to be a McDonalds,” Klaus points at an M over a square-ish building, peering over his shoulder, and Diego shrugs to dislodge him just because he can.

 

“It’s shit is what it is,” he grumbles, uselessly attempting to fold it more neatly, “where does it even lead to?”

 

Klaus shrugs.

 

“X marks the spot?”

 

“You have no idea, do you?” Klaus shakes his head, unrepentant. With an overwhelming urge to sigh again, Diego rescues his car keys from the floor. “Let’s go. We’ll hit the diner first and see if they know where you went after.”

 

He hears his brother gasp behind him.  _ “We’re going to Hangover this bitch!” _

 

Instead of the dozens of ways he could have answered this, Diego jogs up the stairs and out the door, leaving Klaus to scramble after him. Something crashes inside, followed by a curse, and Diego feels his lips twitching in a smile.

 

*

 

The car ride is awkward like it always is.

 

Klaus had tried to climb into the backseat, but Diego had refused to start the car until he clambered up to the passenger seat because  _ I’m not your goddamn taxi,  _ and now he has front seat tickets to his complete inability to stay still. If he’s not tapping his fingers restlessly against the armrest, Klaus is fiddling with something; more than once, Diego had to reach out and bat his hands away from snooping into the glove compartment.

 

He admits defeat on the fifth try, after Klaus finds a knife beneath his seat, because snooping is better than any accidental stabbings. 

 

Although, the running commentary as he rummages through the compartment is beginning to make him doubt that decision. 

 

“I have to ask,” Klaus announces, pulling up a needle and thread from the first aid kid Diego had stuck inside the glove compartment and forgotten about it. “Did you or did you not find yourself a part-time job sewing up clothes?”

 

“You  _ know _ that’s for stitches. Now put it back,” Diego scowls, taking a sharp left with petty satisfaction.

 

“Yeah, he’s no fun,” he shrugs sadly, closing the compartment with a sigh. 

 

There’s a blessed minute of silence and Diego takes notice to enjoy it while it lasts. God knows it won’t last long.

 

Then, Klaus sighs again, pointedly. He sinks on his seat, glaring at the backseat through the mirror. Another sigh. Even without speaking, Diego can hear perfectly the  _ are we there yet  _ and it pisses him off less than he expects. 

 

“It was on the other side of town,” he offers, eyes steadily fixed in the windshield; idly, Diego wonders if he should stop in a car wash on the way back. “The GPS says we’re here, so keep an eye out.”

 

*

 

The GPS is, as it turns out, a liar. 

 

Or maybe it’s just that they are both really terrible at finding Wally because it takes them circling the block twice before Klaus spots a faded yellow thing with an equally faded sign over the door, sandwiched between a mechanics shop and a grocery store. 

 

The bell chimes cheerfully as they enter.

 

In fact, everything inside is so brightly cheerful and homely, Diego scowls, feeling the weight of all the knives hidden on his person like stones in a lake. The old woman behind the counter seems unfazed by his admittedly sour demeanor, though, beaming at them in a grandmotherly way.

 

She wipes her hands on her yellow apron, shuffling around the tables to greet them by the door even with the bustle of a Sunday morning in a diner. Her arms squeeze Klaus into a hug he seems happily resigned to be at the other end of, but Diego takes a step back when she finally smiles his way. “And who is this?”

 

“My brother,” Klaus says, with a grin that promises Diego is going to pay dearly for all the sharp turns he made on the way. He waves a hand, gesturing their faces. “Twins– can you tell?”

 

Rolling his eyes, Diego smacks him on the head. “Quit being a pain,” then, turning to the woman, he nods politely, “it’s Diego. Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

 

“Twins?” She asks dubiously.

 

“Adopted,” he says shortly. “We have a few questions if you don’t mind?”

 

Beside him, Klaus snickers, hissing something to the table he’s leaning against and Diego pretends not to notice.

 

The woman– Donna, he reads in her nametag, yells for someone named Tony to keep an eye on the cash register before steering them away from the door. “Of course, of course. What can I help you boys with?”

 

“I was here yesterday,” Klaus half-estates, half-asks, like he isn’t entirely sure himself yet, but Donna nods like that’s old news, so he continues, obviously pleased with himself. “Great. Now, and this is important, when exactly was that?”

 

“I’d say,” she begins carefully, “about four in the afternoon? No, that’s not right. The girl with the crying kid had just left when I went to make your waffles– that would be a little before five o’clock, I know because I had been counting the minutes until they did.”

 

“I can relate,” Diego huffs, ignoring the indignant  _ hey  _ beside him. “Do you have any idea where he went next?”

 

The smell of fresh pancakes drifts from the kitchen, reminding him that he hasn’t had the time to eat breakfast before Klaus had crashed his Sunday. Mercifully, his stomach doesn’t do anything so undignified as grumbling, but he still shifts his weight from leg to leg self-consciously. 

 

“He didn’t mention, no,” Donna muses, tapping her pudgy fingers against her lips. “But he did seem excited about those waffles we were talking about.”

 

“Waffles?” Klaus asks hopefully.

 

“Ah, yes. You seemed very fond of those,” she chuckles and her eyes crinkle when she smiles, “you just kept going on and on about them.”

 

“Yeah, that checks,” he shrugs, unconcerned. “I’m very poetic.”

 

Donna smiles an  _ of course you are, darling  _ smile, one of those that people use to placate particularly unruly children into staying quiet; again, Diego relates. “Anything else? Any small detail could be helpful?”

 

“Well, you were here for quite a while, talking on your phone, I think,” she offers, frowning slightly. “Tony found it very strange because you asked for two cups but no one else showed up, but I told him not to bother you. Oh, before you left, I told you about that waffle brand that doesn’t taste like frozen cardboard– you seemed excited about that, too.”

 

A male voice calls her name from the kitchen, urgent and verging on panicked, and Donna excuses herself with a promise to be right back and  _ just you boys wait for a second here,  _ but between the smoke coming out the tiny window and how little information she actually provided, Diego doubts they will learn anything else here.

 

Still, Klaus digs in his heels about waiting for Donna to come back, so for once in his life, Diego chooses the path of least resistance. Together, they wait in tense silence.

 

*

 

“See? How’s that for useless?”

 

“Astounding,” Diego mutters, rolling his eyes as they stop at yet another red light.

 

“Speak for yourself,” Kaus waves a plastic fork in his direction and if Diego sees  _ one  _ syrup stain on the upholstery, he’s going to use Klaus’ head as a pincushion for his knives. “I’ve got these waffles for free.  _ And  _ the name was written down this time. Also, it’s all coming back to me now– the diner, the nice lady, and the waffles. Bright artificial lights too, but I don’t know where that is yet.”

 

The waffles do smell good and it  _ was  _ nice of that lady to give them unprompted like that, but this is probably the longest Diego has spent with any of his siblings in more than five years and it’s starting to wear on him. Longer, even, if he’s talking only about Klaus; they had never been very close. Klaus had Ben to go off in their adventures that inevitably ended with something on fire or whisper up and down the Academy, and Diego had Mom and he had his rivalry with Luther that felt sometimes a bit like understanding.  _ Very  _ rarely, of course.

 

It was a big house like this is a big city. It’s easy not to run into each other.

 

“There better be some left for me,” he says instead, “I did not just drive you all the way here for nothing.”

 

Klaus perks up on his seat, nearly dislodging the plastic container on his lap, “you’re right! We’ve been driving around so much, this is almost a road trip! Hey, you know where we should hit next?”

 

No, Diego does not know. In fact, Diego doesn’t even want to know because  _ Diego doesn’t care. _

 

_ “Vegas, baby!”  _ He singsongs, loud enough to startle Diego into whipping his head around and– 

 

“Jesus Christ– _Klaus, get back in the fucking car!”_ He drags him back from where he had stuck his head out of the window like a _lunatic_ and how the waffles haven’t spilled to the floor yet is beyond him. “I swear to God. _I swear to God.”_

 

“Such a spoilsport, brother dearest, no wonder you’re always brooding. That’s no good for your blood pressure, I hear. Have you considered, perhaps, taking that stick out of your ass?”

 

Breathing in deeply to will himself not to threaten to turn this car around, Diego retorts through gritted teeth, “have  _ you  _ considered, perhaps, growing the fuck up?”

 

“Do you realize you run around town in spandex?”

 

_ “That’s leather!” _

 

There’s a minute of silence in the car where Diego refuses to look away from the traffic but feels Klaus practically vibrating beside him. “Don’t,” he warns.

 

A cough that sounds suspiciously like a giggle. “Didn’t say anything. I _ could’ve–  _ but I won’t, I won’t! But I  _ could’ve.” _

 

“I’m driving you to the nearest precinct,” he informs him with a scowl, “I’ll drop you off there and then you’ll be Eudora’s problem, not mine.”

 

Klaus whines something, too low for Diego to pick up, and sinks on his seat, hugging the plastic container protectively to his chest. “Fine. But we should stop at that Walmart over there first.”

 

“Why,” says Diego, flatly.

 

“I want to see now if they have the waffles that nice lady was talking about, so it follows that I would’ve had the same idea yesterday. There you go, that’s some good detecting for you. Watch and learn, little grasshopper.”

 

With a resigned sigh, Diego pulls into the store’s parking lot, cursing his past self for pissing off the one detective that might have helped him with this, even if she would have given him endless shit about it. 

 

But then again, that’s hardly new.

 

*

 

There’s no particular reason they should enter the store itself, but after wandering in the parking lot under the midday sun looking for  _ something  _ neither of them is entirely sure what, the AC inside is a blessing.

 

Klaus immediately wanders off in search of his frozen waffles, leaving Diego to walk around the aisles wondering if he should just make his grocery run while he’s here. Or if he should take the opportunity to take off and go home before he’s dragged into any more nonsense and they can both go another five years without running into each other.

 

An annoying little voice that sounds just a bit too much like Allison’s when she was trying to play peacemaker reminds him Klaus never asks for help so leaving him stranded on a Walmart would make Diego the bigger asshole here. Bigger, even, than Luther, who fucked off to the moon.

 

Since that’s already an incredibly low bar, Diego figures he should at least make an effort not to sink lower.

 

This sentiment, however, is really put to test when he walks past the electronics section and finds Klaus crouching behind a washing machine.  _ “Diego,”  _ he hisses, waving him over frantically.

 

“What are you–  _ five minutes.  _ I leave you alone for five minutes–”

 

“Save the lecture, forget the waffles, we gotta go,” he whispers urgently, eyes flickering around.

 

Diego scowls. “What did you do?”

 

“Nothing!  _ Well,  _ see,  _ I  _ was right, unlike some haters that insisted on not believing we were in the right store, I  _ did  _ come here yesterday” Klaus glares meaningfully at nowhere in particular. “Anyway. Turns out, I made a memorable impression last night which these very helpful overhead lights helped trigger.”

 

Before Diego can say anything, a security guard rounds the corner, easily spotting them amid the washing machines. He shakes a threatening finger towards Klaus, snarling, “what did I say about catching you in here again, you little son of a–”

 

Diego trades a  _ look _ with Klaus that he hopes transmits how pissed  _ he  _ is at being dragged into this situation. Klaus, on the other hand, only scrambles to his feet. “Spare the lecture,  _ run!” _

 

If he hadn’t shot off down the aisle before he was even finished talking, Diego would’ve said  _ maybe, they should talk about this,  _ but Klaus is already skidding to his left and that giant of a security guard isn’t looking very reasonable. So Diego curses loudly and  _ runs. _

 

The security guard takes off behind them, scarily fast for someone who hasn’t, say, been trained since he was a kid. In the dairy section, Diego catches up with his moron of a brother.  _ “What did you do?” _

 

_ “I may have spilled a little milk on his head, but this is a serious overreaction!” _

 

“Why would you do that,  _ idiot _ ?”

 

“He wanted to take away my Oreos! I paid for them!”

 

There’s a crash behind them as the security guard collides with a shelf and dozens of cartons of milk are sent to the floor.

 

_ “That doesn’t sound like you paid for them!” _

 

From here, Diego can see the glass doors already. If they could only make it to the parking lot– 

 

“Forget the car,” Klaus tugs at his arms, almost sending them both to the ground in an attempt to steer Diego to the left,  _ “forget the car,  _ I know where I went next!”

 

They burst through the doors and into the lot, cutting through the grass to get to the street faster. As soon as he rounds the corner, Diego leans on the wall, pulling Klaus to a stop when he runs past a few seconds later. “I hate you,” he says, panting through aching lungs, “ _ so much.” _

 

Klaus snickers, too out of breath to laugh, and sags against the concrete, sliding down to sprawl on the sidewalk unceremoniously. “Did you see,” he gasps, grinning, “his face, though?”

 

For a minute, they stand there in silence, trying to catch their breaths.

 

Then, Diego _ laughs. _

 

He can’t help it– this is just so ridiculous, the whole thing is so goddamn stupid– and then Klaus joins him and it’s even more ridiculous because they are two grown men leaning against some random building and laughing like crazy people. It reminds him just a little of when they would play hide and seek, running up and down the stairs in the Academy, Dad scolding them from his Office and Luther frowning, asking them to  _ please, stop running on the stairs, you know Dad hates when we do that  _ but hiding behind the curtains all the same.

 

If Eudora saw him now, she would never let him live it down even if she would smile her fond, amused little smile that she only ever wears around Diego.

 

And for that, he misses her fiercely.

 

Sobering up, Diego pushes himself off the wall. “Come on,” he peers around the corner to check if the coast is clear. “Where to next?”

 

Klaus grins sharply.

 

“After this riveting chase,” he shrugs, too casual to be anything good, “I could use a drink.”

 

*

 

The bar is not as seedy as Diego had been dreading. Maybe he should stop assuming things, but he knows he probably won’t. Still, the place is halfway decent, the kind of bar he used to hang out with Eudora in their academy days. In his  _ short  _ academy days.

 

He orders a beer because he’s been dealing with Klaus for over two hours now and counting, and there’s already been a crappy diner and Diego doubts he’ll be able to shop at this particular Walmart in the foreseeable future.

 

All things considered, he feels he deserves this beer, even if it’s barely after noon.

 

“Great lunch you’ve got going here,” Klaus comments, finally returning from the bathroom. Diego studies his face for a long moment before deciding it’s not worth it to say anything now, even if his stomach sinks just a little.

 

“Just give me the damn Oreos,” he says, taking a swing from his beer. The packet is ripped open and Klaus stacks the four cookies neatly over the wrapping paper.  _ “This  _ is what we got run off for? Could’ve been the bigger size, at least.”

 

Diego snatches one and shoves it in his mouth, hoping to telegraph how exactly he feels about this lunch break.  _ Forget the car,  _ Klaus had said, as if the waffles weren’t still on the car. That’s what Diego gets for listening to idiots, it’s on him, really. 

 

“You know, this morning, I figured you were just going to call one of your cop buddies,” Klaus says through a mouthful of cookies and vodka. “If I had known we were going on a field trip, I would’ve packed lunch.”

 

“No, you wouldn’t,” Diego replies easily, before sighing a sigh too depressed for his own tastes, “and trust me, I don’t think many detectives would be very happy to hear from me right now.”

 

“Hey, don’t get all brooding on me now. We still have a dead body to find–  _ oh my god,  _ you’re a sad drunk, aren’t you? Figures, really.”

 

He contemplates getting up and leaving, just like that. It’s a nice though, comforting. “Do you ever shut up?”

 

“Not really, I’ve been told I talk in my sleep.”

 

Shaking his head, Diego looks outside. He watches people come and go, wondering if it’s safe to go back for his car already or if he should wait a little more. Chances are, that security guard wouldn’t go through all the trouble of waiting for them in the parking lot, but he also doesn’t want to lead him to anything identifiable.

 

Worst case scenario, Diego is pretty sure it wouldn’t take more than a punch or two to knock the guy out. Three, at most.

 

Across the street, the McDonalds stands out glaringly, a bright red-and-yellow spot right in the middle of the faded gray buildings, and– 

 

_ A McDonalds. _

 

“Hey, hey, where’s that shitty map from earlier?”

 

Klaus blinks, roots around the pockets of his coat. “Here, catch,” he throws a crumpled ball of paper, hitting Diego in the chest.

 

With a warning look, Diego opens it. “You said this was a McDonalds.  _ That  _ is a McDonalds,” he points at the window. 

 

The view of the brightly colored sign seems to trigger another memory for him, and Klaus jumps up, eyes widening,  _ “ooh,  _ I remember, yeah, I ran into Ted last night–  _ that’s  _ why I was so trashed! There was a party! He was in a rush to meet someone, so he drew me a map to get there! This is a map!”

 

Diego squints. That  _ could  _ be a map, maybe, in a very loose interpretation of the word. Either way, “then let’s go. I think that W is the Walmart, come on.”

 

*

 

X marks the spot of a nondescript building, sitting quietly in the afternoon sun. It takes them about an hour to get there, although that’s more about them getting lost several times on the way than the place being genuinely far from the bar.

 

“Should we break in?” Klaus narrows his eyes, studying the railings thoughtfully. “I think I can climb that if you give me a boost.”

 

As soon as he says it, Klaus makes for the entrance and Diego reaches out just in time to drag him back by his coat. It’s like trying to keep track of a fucking puppy that keeps getting distracted by every new thing,  _ Christ.  _ “We’re not breaking in–  _ why  _ would we break in?”

 

“I don’t know, Diego,” he sighs long-suffering, glancing up at the clear sky, “why do I see a giant yellow-and-red centipede every time I close my eyes?”

 

There’s a headache lurking on the back of his mind, and Diego is dumping the blame entirely on Klaus. “Where would you go next?”

 

“Forward, I guess,” Klaus shrugs, falling into step beside him. This square doesn’t have an alley, but with the number of buildings nearby there has to be one close. 

 

They round the corner. 

 

_ “Shit.  _ We gotta go.” Diego whirls right back around, nearly running straight into Klaus and forcing him to back away with him. The entire block had been crawling with police officers, yellow tape closing the street, and he could swear the flash of a dark ponytail had belonged to Eudora.

 

“What? Why? Come on, it can’t be that far now. Look, with the party upstairs, I would never have made it past that ice cream place–”

 

“Keep your voice down,  _ Jesus,”  _ Diego shushes him, pulling at his arm to get Klaus to  _ move  _ but Klaus digs in his heels  _ again, _ refusing to budge and being  _ loud  _ about it, and Diego is going to  _ kill him if he doesn’t–  _

 

_ “Diego?”  _

 

_ Shit.  _ Eudora rounds the corner and Diego immediately lets go. He tried, alright, if Klaus is going to be a stubborn little shit, then he can face her alone, because Diego isn’t going to stick around for another lecture on  _ tampering with the crime scene  _ when he didn’t even have the chance to tamper with anything this time.

 

But of course, now Klaus decides to follow.  _ “Who’s that chick?”  _ He whispers, sidling up beside him, “why’s she chasing us? ‘Cause _ I _ don’t remember pissing  _ her  _ off.”

 

“Nope, this one’s on me,” Diego grimaces, glancing behind his shoulder and ducking inside the nearest open store when he sees Eudora striding towards him in a warpath. “She’s a detective,” he tells him, pretending to look at some hydrangeas, his back to the door.

 

“A  _ detective,  _ huh?” Klaus waggles his eyebrows, “you mentioned her earlier, and she seems to know you pretty well.”

 

_ “Diego,”  _ Eudora finally catches up to them, and Diego pretends not to hear. “Diego. I can see you– I can  _ clearly  _ see you near the sunflowers, nope, that’s a violet now.  _ Diego.  _ Put down the cactus. _ ” _

 

“Diego, I think the nice lady is talking to you, don’t be rude,” Klaus taps him on the shoulder, nodding in her direction with an innocent smile that is not going to work anymore after Diego  _ knocks his teeth in–  _

 

“Eudora, hi,” he turns around, aiming for casual. It’s a… it could have been worse, he decides. “What a surprise.”

 

“Cut the crap,” she marches inside, flashing her badge at the shop-owner to possibly explain why his store is being invaded like this before whirling back on him. “We’ve talked about this, you can’t keep showing up at crime scenes, Diego.”

 

“I wasn’t–”

 

_ “Crime scene?”  _ Klaus pipes up, his interest on the case temporarily winning over his interest in the drama playing out. “What crime scene?”

 

Eudora’s eyebrows raise impossibly higher as she seems to only now realize he was also there. “And who are you again?”

 

“Klaus, the most handsome brother,” he lifts a hand in greeting, beaming, but switches hands with a  _ oopsies,  _ when he notices it’s the one with the stupid  _ Goodbye  _ tattoo. “Delighted to meet you.” 

 

“Detective Patch,” she offers, then something must cross her mind because she’s suddenly smacking Diego in the arm.  _ “Diego,  _ you can’t bring your siblings to a crime scene! That’s even worse!”

 

“We didn’t mess with your crime scenes, alright, we never even got close to the yellow tape–”

 

“Yeah, yeah, you can have your lover’s spat later,” Klaus interrupts again, waving him off distractedly, “I wanna hear more about this murder most foul. Like, did it happen to happen in an alley? And do you happen to have any suspects yet?

 

She gives him an odd look, but not a suspicious one yet; civilians do love to ask about cases all the time, after all. And, in all fairness, Klaus is an odd person. “Yeah, actually. It did, on that alley one street over. A robbery gone wrong. The guy broke into the apartment but the owner shot him in the stomach and sent him down the fire escape, landed on some drunk.” Eudora sighs, regarding Diego for a moment, “look, we have a confession and we have footage from a nearby security camera, it was clearly self-defense, we won’t press charges. There’s nothing for you to do here, Diego. Please, go home.”

 

Diego can see the relief in the way Klaus deflates, sagging against a pillar with a grin, almost hitting his head on a hanging Orchidea in the process, and Diego would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit relieved too. “That’s great– I mean,  _ terrible,  _ how awful.”

 

“Yeah,” Eudora smiles a politely fake smile, and turns to Diego once again, “I don’t want to see you anywhere near a  _ parking ticket  _ or I’ll press charges, understand?”

 

“Loud and clear,” Diego agrees, knowing they will undoubtedly run into each other in the next few days and she will repeat the same warning and he will dutifully agree again and merry-go-round they go.

 

Her radio buzzes into life, and Diego watches her bark a short order before stalking back with one last warning glare and an amused goodbye. Still, he stays standing there until her footsteps fade and he can’t hear her voice arguing with dispatch anymore.

 

“Mystery solved,” Klaus says with a vacant stare, picking at the Orchidea that almost concussed him. “And I didn’t even have to take the stand. A solid win, if you ask me.”

 

It suddenly occurs to Diego that there’s no reason for him to hang around any longer now that there’s nothing left to do. The missing corpse was found and Klaus’ name hadn’t even come up in the investigation. They can part ways here, until the next emergency in God knows how many years.

 

“Hey, isn’t it funny that it took a whole dead body for us to hang out?” Klaus continues, still picking half-heartedly at the flowers.

 

“No,” Diego replies honestly, “it’s not funny at all.”

 

Klaus looks up, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Wonder what would it take to get all six of us in a room. Allison marrying another movie star, perhaps?”

 

“Five.  _ Five  _ of us,” he spits out through gritted teeth because this is not the kind of bullshit conversation to have in a flower shop. This is not the kind of bullshit conversation to have anywhere at all.

 

But the moment passes, Klaus blinks away the melancholy, correcting him absently, “six, yeah.” Then, grinning up at Diego, “so, about that road trip?”

 

“I’m not driving you to Vegas.”

 

He shrugs, “boring. I guess the next bus stop will do. Or back to that diner, maybe that lady will give us more free food.”

 

The clock above the sunflowers reads  _ 1:46 pm  _ and Diego could still have half of his Sunday back if he left now. Get some peace and quiet, maybe, without any loud, ridiculous shenanigans. Work out upstairs in the gym. His thoughts circle back at the Walmart, at the faded diner. 

 

“You’re lucky I’m still hungry,” Diego sighs tiredly, but it’s mostly for show, and rolls his eyes, holding the door open, “just get in the damn car.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> hey, if you like it, comments really make my day! Or you can come scream about this dysfunctional family at [my tumblr](https://rad-hoodd.tumblr.com).
> 
>  
> 
> and hey? thanks.


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